Cycles of Life
by azayana
Summary: [Zuko x Katara] Because love doesn't always defy all odds, but it lasts forever anyways.


**i. compassion for undeservers**

She has always been too compassionate. Her tragic flaw and her redeeming quality, all mish-mashed together. She is still not sure if it is a good or bad thing, but she supposes it is inconsequential either way. She is too compassionate, and that is the point. And so, after their brief (_though if she lets herself remember, it was more than brief)_ encounter in the cave, she feels a spark of sympathy.

And really, there's something oddly ironic about it all, talking with this boy who she should hate but doesn't, identifying with this boy who has tried to kill her but hasn't.

Sometimes she has to wonder privately if she's going insane.

Then again, she guesses she always has been _(ever since that stormy inky-black night seven years ago; seven years and two months and one day)_.

* * *

**ii. prison walls around me**

_Redeem yourself_, the first words that spring to mind when she looks at him, and she wants to say them out loud but her mouth will not work and she doesn't have the strength. Not anymore; not right now. Not with her hands bound by chafing rope that leaves raw red imprints on her skin and being propelled down a dank dark corridor, barely able to see and barely able to breathe and almost barely able to find the good side of this.

_In here_, growls one of the guards. And as they push her in, she turns to look at him, hoping to maybe discern his eyes from his face and see what she so desperately wants to see. _Regret_. And if she squints a little harder and focuses hard enough, she can almost make out the regret in his eyes.

She's not sure if it's for her or the kind but weakened man slumped next to her.

She likes to imagine that it's for both of them.

* * *

**iii. hearing you loud and clear**

He comes to visit one day _(the next day, if she kept track)_. The girl _(the one with the empty emotionless eyes)_ shoves him forwards, smirks in her cruel cold way. _Well, Zuzu, dear brother, go ahead_, she laughs, motions for the guards to close the steel doors. _Go ahead and talk to him. One hour, all you have, Zuzu. And Father will certainly hear of this… your attachment to dear Uncle. I don't think he'll be pleased, will he, Zuzu?_ The girl's voice echoes mockingly around the chamber, and she feels cold all of a sudden.

He turns pale. She does not see it bright and clear, but she knows he does by instinct - she can feel it. She thinks maybe Toph has rubbed off on her, but thinking of Toph leads to more painful thoughts, so she empties her mind.

He doesn't look at her. It hurts a little for some inexplicable reason, but she does not blame him. She understands.

_I'm sorry, Uncle,_ he starts, voice wavering as he talks to the older man. _Azula - she - she… she has set a date._

She stifles her gasp. Everyone in the chilly confined cell knows exactly what he means by _date_, and everyone in the chilly confined cell dislikes it.

When the benevolent man _(Iroh, she corrects herself)_ finally replies, his voice is a mix of disappointment _(in him, maybe)_ and resignation. _I see. Is that all?_

And when he says yes and Iroh sighs heavily - the way in which the atmosphere has plummeted, well, it kind of breaks her heart.

She feels empathy for these two people _(enemy, one of them, ally, the other)_, and she's not entirely sure she should.

* * *

**iv. redemption patterns**

_Quiet_, he hisses, one hand over her mouth._ Don't alarm the guards._

She nods, presses herself further against the wall. His other hand is supporting the genial man _(his uncle, she reminds herself, though sometimes she has trouble equating this sullen boy with his uncle)_, and she, once again and not for the last time, feels empathetic towards him.

Footsteps resonate along the corridor, and she muffles her cry. _Run_, he whispers. _Take my uncle and run!_ And it is not the commanding dominance of his words that make her follow them, but the rawness and desperation that underline it. _Here,_ she says to Iroh, offers her arm to his Uncle. _He'll be okay_, she tells herself.

_He'll be fine_, his Uncle reassures her, as if he can read her mind. _Swear that by Agni. My nephew can handle himself_.

She supposes they're all fugitives now.

After all, he's one of them now.

* * *

**v. shades of blue and white**

_Thank you_, she murmurs. _Maybe you did change after all_. He looks at her in genuine surprise.

_I don't need you to tell me that,_ he says briskly, but his expression says something else altogether. _I thought you'd hate me._ After that, they fall into uneasy silence. Taciturn, both of them.

_You should come with us_, she offers, mother-hen instinct kicking in. _Be with your uncle. That girl - your sister - she'd have you executed. Think about it._ Her compassion is showing through again, and she waits with bated breath. Fire Nation or not, she does not _(will not) _want _(have)_ the blood on her hands of sending a person _(living breathing person)_ back to almost unavoidable death.

And she believes that somewhere under his façade, he is a good person.

She's just not sure if he will acknowledge it.

So it is with shock that she receives his quiet _'if only to save my life_'.

Though maybe, she thinks _(hopes)_ it is more than that.

* * *

**vi. settling in**

She is beyond pleased when they finally accept him, though she treats it with indifference. She has no reason to be pleased for him, though some part of her hopes that maybe he at least thinks of her as a friend. It is with no great shock that she sees that Toph gets along best with him. Toph has the least reason to hate him, and their combined sardonic remarks give her migraine headaches, but to her, it is worth it. It is unity, and she thinks that unity can help them win this war. And Aang's hyperactive attempts to befriend him give her no little amount of amusement. Sokka might hate him still, but she supposes that at least Sokka has stopped trying to jump him everytime he so much as talks to her.

She has come a long way from the prejudiced little girl who saw the world in black and white.

And in her heart, she thinks he may be growing up from the unfriendly unpleasant sour little boy who saw the world in red and blue.

Maybe it is just her imagination, but she thinks that sometimes she can only just see the ghost of a smile on his face.

That look makes her feel happy, like she's accomplished something.

Though if she thinks about, she already has.

* * *

**vii. growing up**

He first smiles at her _(a real smile, one that actually contains genuine happiness)_ exactly two weeks after her joins them. _Do you know where Uncle is?_ he asks.

She frowns back. _With Aang, teaching him firebending. He's a good teacher._

He just nods and seats himself down opposite her.

_He's getting better at it. Aang. At firebending_, she informs him, casting around for a topic of conversation in her mind.

Acridly, he tells her he already knows. _He's the Avatar. What did you expect?_

_Well, I don't know. But it's a good thing. It means that maybe… Maybe…_

_Maybe…?_ he asks.

_Maybe we can win this war,_ she finishes; she truly believes it, and if she believes it, it will happen. She thinks _(knows)_ so. A smile on her face, she waits for him to refute her statement, but instead, unexpectedly, he smiles back.

_Maybe we can_.

It took the better part of three years, but he is finally growing up.

She would like to think she helped bring about the change.

* * *

**viii. long to be**

She is grateful to him; he is her light in the dark at times, and it helps to have a vessel for all her pent-up emotion (_anger and grief and agony and sorrow and pain_). In ways, he becomes her solace. He is easier to talk to than Aang and Sokka, less sarcastic than Toph, closer to her age than Iroh. And so she unleashes her feelings on him _(all of them, and she is glad he does not complain, because he is her last resort, really_).

The first turning point comes after a heated sparring session. Toph has dragged Aang off for practice; Iroh and Sokka are off somewhere doing Spirits-know-what. And so they fight. It is a nice-enough outlet for her bottled-up sentiment, and she thinks that it might apply to him as well.

While she rests herself after their brief sparing session, he starts to speak. It is the first time he has done so voluntarily since he became one of them, and she stops and freezes as she turns to look at him.

_I don't really belong here. I don't belong anywhere. Look at my family. Look at your brother._

She sits up straight, protests vehemently. _Of course you do! Everyone belongs somewhere._

_I'm not everyone_, he replies, a touch of haughtiness in his voice. _I don't fit. You all get along like you're pieces of a mismatched puzzle that somehow fits. I'm not part of that puzzle. I get death-glared by your brother on a regular basis, the Avatar treats me like he doesn't trust me - Toph is the only one that actually talks to me._

She does not miss the fact that he refers to only Toph by name _(she does not mention that Aang might have a valid reason to be suspicious)_.

She wants to shout at him for wallowing in self-pity _(arrogance or angst; she's not sure which one she prefers)_. Instead, she leans forward and looks him in the eye. _Belong. Do you know what that means?_

He frowns. She continues; ignores him. _Long to be. And as long as you want to be somewhere, or with someone, then you belong_.

She means his Uncle, but something else lies beneath her words. He looks back at her, stares into her gaze, and she thinks she can almost hear the thudding of their hearts.

She thinks that maybe this is the start of something. She's not sure what, but it's something, and that's all that matters at the moment.

_So you're saying I do belong?_ he asks, disbelieving. 

_As long as you long to be_, she restates.

And she thinks that maybe he does - long to be, that is.

Maybe.

* * *

**ix. talking about eternity**

_What are you going to do once all this is over?_ It is an innocuous enough question, and she is not quite sure what prompts her to ask it, but it gets blurted out anyways.

He does not reply, just gives her a look that says everything instead. _I don't know what I'd so_, she says to him, frowns as she thinks. _I think maybe I'd go for a vacation. A holiday. Somewhere I haven't been before, somewhere nice. I'd travel, I suppose. I can't imagine not_ _travelling._ She rests her head back on her arms as the night stretches around them. _I just don't know where._

Awkwardly, he mutters something she doesn't quite catch._ You could visit the Fire Nation I guess. I -_

_Yes?_

_Don't worry._

_Well then, I won't,_ she concedes, crosses and uncrosses her legs to get the feeling in them back. _And I'd like that. You could show me around the palace. I've heard of it, that it's beautiful; the most elaborate palace in the world. I'd like to see it._

_It is. My mother's garden especially. I think you might like it._

_It must be_, she agrees. And in the dark of the night, despite the chilly desolation around them, she finally feels like she's found something that could last forever. And in the stillness of the night, talking about the rest of forever with this no-longer-heartless person feels like what she wants to do for the rest of her life.

Talking about eternity with this shattered boy.

She could do it until the world stopped turning, and she wouldn't get sick of it.

* * *

**x. black sun**

Suddenly, before she has time to think, to react, they are fighting for their lives and for the world and for each other. She wonders why anyone even wages wars in the first place - wars are testaments and a homage to the futility of existence. Only, somehow, fighting back to back with him and letting him protect her back - it doesn't seem so futile.

No fire, she notes, but the broadswords work just as well.

_Cover my right and I cover yours,_ she whispers, and shifts. He gives her an almost predatory smile_ (she is glad that smile is not directed at her)_.

_Heard you loud and clear._

And block strike parry all over again. She thinks that if this keeps up, they might win. The moon gives her power just as it drains theirs, and he is her defence and she feels oddly safe in the middle of a battlefield.

They never see the arrow aimed straight for her heart.

* * *

**xi. cast into the wind**

They cremate the dead, and for them, it is no different. But instead of being sealed away in urns and returned to their families, their ashes are cast into the wind. It is a melancholy sombre atmosphere at the ceremony, and Aang's speech reduces the entire crowd to tears. Aang himself is openly crying, and not even Toph is safe from the sudden stinging sensation.

_Goodbye_, a final one. Sokka is the first to let her ashes go, and Aang is the last.

_We'll meet them again, _Toph tells them.

She's not really sure if she believes it herself, but she has to be their rock and their comfort and their beacon of light, so she has to stay strong.

And so their ashes are scattered and thrown into the wind and carried away on the sea breeze.

It is a fitting farewell.

* * *

**xii. live on after**

Somewhere out there, they live on after. Somewhere out there, they meet again.

Somewhere out there, things come full circle, and the patterns of history repeat themselves.

In ways, it is a good thing.

* * *

**A/N:** This turned out much longer than it was supposed to be. It was more or less me trying to write believable character growth in a one-shot less than 2000 words (it was 2412).

My friend says I am 'a prodigy'. My friend is deranged for thinking that… Just because I actually understand the concept of grammar, and am thirteen and am younger than the vast majority of bad authors doesn't mean that I'm smart. But really, you didn't need to know that, though some backup in this instance would be nice. I know, subtle. So, if you do review, can you point out to her that I'm _not_ smart? pokes her friend Need help here...


End file.
